A/N:
Beware, a slow chapter ahead.
Chapter 9: Tales At the Sign of The Prancing Pony.
Lucina stepped inside the inn, still flustered by the evening's happenings. Immediately she saw a number of the townsfolk had all packed into the common room. A haze of smoke from their pipes hung in the air. The smell of baking bread and broiling stew did little to mask the scent of the burning herb, and she stood for a moment by the door where the air was better.
Butterbur then strode out of a door, full mugs held tight in each hand. He caught sight of Lucina and a bright smile broke out onto his face.
"Master Mars, back already I see!" he said.
"...It's Marth."
"Oh, right, begging your pardon. Well, sit down, I'll have your room ready for you in a moment. I had a mind to think you'd be back, so I kept your room away. The sheets were changed and a new pillow set! I trust you won't lack of anything, but if you do, holler for Nob and he'll bring you anything you please. Now, would you be having some tea? How about an ale, hmm? A nice bowl of stew perhaps?"
"Just tea, thank you," she said, "but a quick question, if you'll have it."
Butterbur nodded. "All right, young master, half a minute and I'll be back right quick."
She watched him disappear into the hazy smoke in the room, but he returned soon enough.
"Now, what is it you were wanting?" he asked while wiping his hands on his apron. The two of them stood a bit away from the tables, near the front door, but she led him away a pace or two just to make sure no one heard them.
"Is there any in this town with some authority? Any sort of…captain of arms perhaps?" she asked, keeping a wary eye to see if anyone glanced their way.
"Aye, that'll be Tom Appledore, the Captain of The Watch."
She nodded, "where can I find him?"
Butterbur quirked an eyebrow. "Is everything all right? Was there someone giving you trouble? Was is that Bill Ferny?"
"No, no. There's just…something I'd like to report…something I saw."
Butterbur stayed silent for a brief moment, but he seemed to accept that answer without further scrutiny. He then gestured for her to take a seat in the common room. "If he comes by I'll point him out to you. Sit tight a little while, if you please." Lucina thanked him, and the innkeeper was off again.
She now turned her gaze toward the crowded tables, where gruff-looking folk sat before her, clothes dirty and threadbare, likely coming to the inn after a hard day's work. Many others were dressed in finer cloth, but no less rowdy than the others; the air full of their loud chatter and laughter. Their faces could barely be seen in the flickering light of the hearth burning at the far wall that struggled to pierce the smoke, or from the weak candlelight at each table. But there was enough light to see a few looking towards her with faint and curious glances.
She steadied the sheath of Falchion. A strange crowd she felt it was, and trepidation kept her in place for a moment while she searched for a good seat.
An empty table near a shadowed corner of the room caught her eye, and she swiftly made for it. Lucina weaved through the full tables, almost bumping into a few patrons who walked unsteady on their feet. At last she reached her destination; easing herself onto the hard wooden bench. Only then could she properly breathe again.
Respite of body did not however offer leave from her mind, as the events of earlier surfaced once more in her thoughts. Her knee, spurred by ill memory, began bouncing nervously underneath the table.
The voices of those men at the house, and the conversation they had, bothered her for reasons she could not place. The first voice came from a man she knew, though his face was lost to her.
But then there was the second voice, which carried with it visions of dark figures sat upon black horses; cold pale steel in their hands that glimmered even in the deepest of nights. She shuddered, but would not allow herself to be convinced it was one of them. She still wished to sleep this night after all.
'Fellow with red and glowing eyes, who'd been seen just last night,' was her next line of thought, leaving her transfixed on that small bit of information. Her mind would say a stray Risen, which was troublesome enough, but from the man's words she gleaned that the Risen was wanting something, meaning it was not some mindless beast. And only one branch of Grima's dark servants could fit that description. She lamented again not being able to hear that man over the wind.
Though it could not be confirmed, Lucina had an unsettling suspicion that some of the Bree-folk were collaborating with something fell.
To not let herself be swarmed by her own worries, she tried to focus on other things, and she casually looked around the common room.
More and more of the night-time crowd of Bree piled into the inn. There were many of the regular Bree-folk around, but she also saw a good number of Hobbits too. They had their own little section, sitting at small sized tables and dressed in fine vests and coats.
Overall, the Bree-folk seemed like a merry bunch, laughing and singing songs with one another, downing their drinks from tall tankards without any concern. Some of the more reserved ones sat quietly, smoking and playing at draughts. It felt almost heartwarming to her, seeing people so care free. Yet she knew from anyone in the gathering there could be dark hearts and ill intentions.
As she looked around the now packed room, Lucina began to notice a few people glancing her way. They muttered things to each other in quiet voices as they stared, others seemed not so courteous.
"Younglings as of late," she heard one gruff and grey-haired man say, "always trying to stand out, they are. Now they're off colouring their hair blue!"
"Aye, we've had some strange folk crossing the Bree-lands," another would say.
She kept to herself, not wanting to react to any of their snide comments. Though she did not miss that some shadier-looking folk had eyes that lingered too long. One of them was Bill Ferny, whispering at the front counter with some others. At another table she spotted the South-Gate Gatekeeper, the one she'd met just today; his eyes taking short glances at her from across the room.
'So here he is. Left his post for the inn, I see,' she thought, rather amused, though soon curious of his rather nervous demeanour. She thought little of it, and her gaze left him, now examining the other folk in the crowd.
It was then that Lucina noticed a strange weather-beaten man sitting alone in a dark corner on the far side of the room, smoking from a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. A heavy travel-stained cloak of dark green cloth was about his shoulders, and a hood was drawn over his head, overshadowing his face. Though she could still tell he was looking directly at her, gaze unbroken. He had his tall legs stretched out before him, and a hand resting on the pommel of a sword strapped to his side.
Her eyes narrowed behind her mask. One of those bandits had found her, it seemed, and likely a guest of the inn. Though she doubted that he would start a fight with her here, not within sight of others. Just in case, she gripped the hilt of Falchion and watched him through her mask, making sure her gaze wasn't directly on him so as not to seem threatening.
Butterbur had at last come to her with a cup of tea. The pleasant aroma of the brew did some to ease her anxiousness, but Lucina was more focused on the strange man that stalked her.
"That hooded man in the corner, is he a guest here?" she asked hastily in a hushed voice. Butterbur followed her gaze over to where the man sat, and swiftly turned his head away, looking as if he'd just seen a ghost.
"Him?" he answered in a nervous whisper. "He was no guest here last night, nor is he this night for that matter. I didn't even see him come in!" Butterbur sighed, "He's always done this, always popping up without so much as announcing himself."
Lucina looked up at Butterbur, "you've met him before?"
"Aye, he comes and goes when he pleases, always alone. Sometimes staying quite regularly, then you don't see him for months. Just when you think he's never coming back, he pops up again!"
"Do you know who he is?" she then asked.
After a short pause Butterbur shook his head, "I don't rightly know. He's one of the wandering folk I think, Rangers we call them. They go about in the far dark wilds where no Bree Man had ever stepped foot. And those aren't any that good decent folk like you and I, young Master, should associate with. They're a dangerous lot, to say the least, him more than others. Never heard what his right name is, but round here he's known as Strider. Stay clear of him, if you can."
Lucina watched the hooded man. Embers from his pipe gleamed bright in his shadowed corner as he took in a long, slow draw from the stem then blew out smoke in a thick cloud. The way he sat, motionless in the dark, showed that he was trying very hard not to be noticed. She would admit he did a fine job at that. He wouldn't have caught her sight at all If she hadn't spent years of her life watching dark forests for any signs of risen ambushes, no matter how large he was.
"Have you known him to be a thief? Or a waylayer of sorts?" she asked.
"Thief? Now, Strider is many things but a thief he is not. He pays his wage, same as any other."
Lucina furrowed her brow, that was strange behaviour for a bandit. Though she supposed it made sense. Better to rob some poor sap on the road than risk being banished from the only town for miles.
"If he's bothering you, I'll have the lads round him up and throw him out," he said, with a courage that seemed half-hearted at best.
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Butterbur, I was just curious."
"As you say, but be mindful of folk like Strider. Never know what trouble you could get yourself into with his ilk!" Butterbur warned. He took one last disdainful look over at the ranger before he was off to answer calls for more food and drink. Lucina was now left alone to focus on this 'Strider' and his title of 'Ranger'.
He looked much like those other bandits, tall and ragged, only meaning they were rangers as well. Butterbur did not like them, and he seemed like a decent judge of character.
Strangely enough, Ferny had also mentioned them. His tone suggested that even he thought of them poorly. It was quite obvious that they were rather infamous in this town, earning contempt from even the crooked. Though what they had done to earn this opinion was unclear to her.
Were they thieves? She doubted it; they stole nothing from her even when she was most vulnerable. They'd even helped her recover from that 'black breath' ailment they mentioned. Such mercies weren't given by any banditry she knew. Were they a band of mercenaries then? Or perhaps spies from another land?
She dismissed these thoughts. She could speculate all day but in the end it didn't matter very much, Lucina was not going to take them for allies.
She took the warm teacup into her hands and idly sipped the hot drink, trying her best to focus only on the present, while at the same time remained alert of the folk around her.
Every time she saw the innkeeper pass her by, or when a new face arrived into the company, she watched with keen eyes, looking to see if Tom Appledore had arrived. But as the night drew on, it seemed the Captain of The Watch was not going to show today. Lucina sighed, and rose up from her seat. She began to make for her room, having grown weary of the company.
"I say, you there! Blue fellow! Off so soon?" a voice suddenly hollered from deep in the room.
Lucina froze, her heart fluttering a bit. The room grew quiet, and she felt as if a hundred eyes were on her. She gulped hard and turned to see that the company did indeed watch her more curiously now.
Heavy footsteps fell behind her, and the round form of Butterbur appeared at her side.
"Begging everyone's pardon, I rightly forgot to introduce our new guest," Butterbur said.
Lucina tried to protest in a small voice, "Mr. Butterbur, that won't be–"
"—This is young Master Marth," he cut in, either ignoring or not hearing her, "who comes all the way from the far away lands of Ylisse!"
"Aye, we've heard talk of him last night, we did. Avoiding us, were you now, Marth?" a voice said, belonging to a dark-haired middle-aged man.
Lucina nervously cleared her throat, "I–I was not, sirs, I was weary from travelling the other day. Forgive me, I meant no offence," she said, and took a small bow.
"Ah! A right proper lad, he is! All is well, young master," they said.
"Why did you make your hair blue like that?" another blurted out suddenly.
"It—it's my natural colour. From my father, and his father before him," Lucina said. The townsfolk exchanged odd glances and mumbled low words with each other. From the few words she heard, it seemed they didn't much believe her, and thought it an odd excuse.
"Well...all right then," the same man said, rather awkwardly.
"That there's an odd mask on your face, that is. Are you someways horribly scarred under there?" said another man. The question took Lucina aback. She remained silent, pondering about what answer she should give that didn't sound too suspicious.
"He's got a face like any other, though fairer to the eye than any of you lot. Leastways Old Goatleaf at the West-Gate said so," some other man said.
"So how come he wears it around here?" yet another asked. Lucina's thoughts began racing, trying to figure out what to say. She deemed her brand, even for these ignorant folk, as something that must remain unknown at all costs. As she'd come to suspect, there were other, darker minds that would find such information interesting, and she could not risk it.
"Er – well," she stuttered weakly, "I'd prefer to keep it on."
"And why's that? Take that mask off, I say. Show us your face!" someone said abruptly, and others agreed.
"There now!" suddenly came the Innkeeper's voice. "Young master Marth's business is his own. I don't set rules about what folk wear in my house, else I'd have you lot dressed prim and proper, and not track mud all over my floors."
There were a few low murmurs, and nothing more. Lucina breathed out a small sigh of relief, internally thanking Mr. Butterbur. Yet again the innkeeper proved his quality service, deserving far more than he charged.
"What about this Ylisse, what's it like there?" someone then asked, thankfully moving on from the mask topic.
"Aye, you've come from a place we've not ever heard of before, you must tell us at least something!" an eager man said.
Lucina eased a bit, now realizing that the Bree-folk weren't interrogating her, they were just curious about where she came from.
"Well, it's a beautiful land, I suppose. The Halidom of Ylisse is its true name. It's…filled with rolling green hills…and thick woodlands and flowing rivers. The summers are warm and sun filled, and the winters are not too harsh. You'd all find it quite pleasant there, I think," she told them.
"So where is this Ylisse? Is it in the east, west, or south?" they asked.
"Ah, well, Ylisse exists on a continent of its own, which is remarkably called Ylisse as well," she said.
There were a few surprised mutterings within the room. "You mean to say you've come from over the sea?"
"Er – yes, to say the least."
Now, the folk were most interested, spurring into quiet discussions.
"Do you have a ruler? As in a king and queen?"
"In a way. Our ruler is called the Exalt, their line descending all the way from the Hero-King Marth…whom I was named after in admiration, as are many others in the realm."
"Do you know any stories?" someone asked. Surprisingly, the question came from one of the hobbits.
A chorus of agreeing voices erupted in the room. "Aye, tell us a tale! Sing us a song if you have the mind for it!"
"I'm afraid my tales are too grim for this gathering."
"We've heard plenty grim tales from them Rangers. It won't do us harm if we have another," they said, and the folk looked at her expectedly.
She caved, "very well. What sort of tale would you want told?"
"A grand ancient tale would please us well, something with — heroes — and battles, if you know any of the sort," one said, the others agreeing.
Lucina pondered on what tale she should tell them. After a moment, she'd decided on the perfect one. "I'll tell you one that is very dear to me. It is the tale of a Prince and a Dragon," she said.
There was a flurry of low and excited words and the company beckoned her to take a seat by the hearth. Lucina went and sat at a bench near the flames as most of the company settled in to hear her talk. Even the hobbit-folk had taken keen interest too.
"Ylisse, as I've told you, is a beautiful nation, where folk thrive in peace. But it was not always so, and its founding is a tale of great tragedy…and horror," she began when all were quiet, "the story begins a thousand years ago on the continent of Archanea, which was the same continent as Ylisse is today, but in that time it had not yet been founded. There were many realms that existed on this continent; Gra, Altea, Dolhr, and Macedon, to name a few. But mightiest after the days of the Hero-King Marth was the United Kingdom of Archanea, and was beheld by his descendants.
"Two thousand years after Marth had lived and died, there was peace in the lands. The king of Archanea at the time was a proud and bold man, who had seven sons. Under his rule, the kingdom prospered, and grew to great heights. The neighbouring kingdoms recognized its authority, and paid tribute to the realm with many gifts of gold and gem-laden crafts. Some would send soldiers, such as the famed Pegasus Knights of Macedon, to serve in the king's own hosts."
"A Pegasus? What's that?" someone interrupted.
"A creature that bears the likeness of a horse, though it has two long wings at either side, and could soar high in the air," Lucina explained.
"A flying horse you say? Why that's not but the strangest thing I've heard," they said.
"I assure you they are a real creature, and still exist today. My — friend is a Pegasus knight herself. And I have ridden her steed many times."
"Now, where was I? Right, the King," she continued, "he was a great and accomplished warrior by his own right. He'd never lost a battle in the wars of his youth. But when he came to power, his policies merited peace over conflict, and he hadn't need of a sword since his early rule."
"Though while he had put up his own blade, his sons had taken up the sword for themselves, being trained from young in the use of it, and each was unrivalled by any in the realms. The youngest son however, was not the swordsman that his brothers were. He was a small boy, scrawny and slow, who preferred the pen to the blade. While his brothers trained fiercely to perfect their skills, the youngest sat for hours reading ancient lore, and writing songs and poetry of the heroes of old."
"The older brothers often ridiculed their younger brother, but the King himself was far more understanding of his seventh son's nature, and he would look upon him not with contempt, but with love. 'Not every hand needs a sword,' he would often say to him. For in that time of peace there was little need for soldiers, but greater need for wisdom."
"But this time of peace, like all things, was not to last. Far to the north, over mountains great and tall, in the lands of the forgotten realms, an evil stirred. And on one fateful day, a thousand years ago, the world would be changed forever. In the ruins of an ancient city called Thabes, a darkness awoke. A dragon, the likes of which had never been seen before, emerged from the deep lair of the wicked Forneus. They called him Grima, the Fell Dragon, the Wings of Despair."
Out of the corner of her eye, Lucina caught a few men near the back swiftly standing up and leaving, which gave her pause. She furrowed her eyebrows, but thought not to dwell on it, as she could not find any recognition in the faces of those around her either.
"Grima, as I was saying, the Fell Dragon. No one knows where he truly came from. Some legends say he was a descendant of the earth-dragons. Some say he began as a small bug-like creature that was given the blood of the Great Dragon Naga, transforming it into a monstrosity. But none know the truth. He did not breathe fire like a regular dragon, instead he breathed a fume that snuffed out all life it touched."
"How big was he?" someone asked.
"I'd say he was larger than all of the Bree-lands," she said.
There was a collective murmur of surprise amongst the Bree-folk. They simply couldn't comprehend a beast of that size.
"He must have been bigger than all the clouds!" she heard one say.
"Indeed," Lucina said in a grave tone, "like a storm cloud he would block the very sun if he was near."
"A monster like that...how could it possible to slay such a thing?"
"So would I wonder, and so too did the folk of that time. Alas, he had other terrors other than being large. By some dark means was Grima able to pervert the corpses of the slain to rise again and fight the living. These fell creatures were known as the Risen."
"His path of terror did not start in Archanea however. Soon after his awakening Grima flew west, over the wide sea to the western continent of Valentia where he laid siege to the Alm Kingdom. There, were Grima's deeds most cruel. And he took great delight in seeing its people suffer. Sometimes he would not attack, he would instead force his Risen soldiers to burn up all the crops, and he would watch from above as the women and children starved."
Lucina had to pause, her memories overwhelming her. Even though Lucina had not been there herself, she could clearly imagine the horrors of that time, for she had lived it. She took a shaking breath in and out, and continued the tale.
"When the King had heard of the ancient earth dragon that had utterly destroyed Valentia, he gathered a great host of men from all the surrounding realms, hundreds of thousands strong. It was the greatest host the world had ever seen. And they say his camp stretched all the way to the horizon. Under the banner of the King of Archanea, this great host of men marched to the western shores. They sought to traverse the sea to Valentia, but it was too late, for Grima had already come to them."
"The King's host watched in terror as they witnessed the Fell Dragon appear from beyond thick storm clouds. It was as if they could see their own deaths there looming beyond the horizon. Grima's endless horde of Risen had come too, either by stolen ship or upon his vast back."
"But the King would not waiver, nor his sons, and he rallied them all under his banner. The King wielded Falchion, an ancient sword forged from the fang of the Great Dragon Naga, which had been an heirloom of his house since its very beginnings. In his left hand he held the binding shield, the Fire-Emblem, which had been used to seal earth-dragons in the wars of old. And so on the cliffs at the western sea, they fought for the survival of mankind."
"But alas, the battle was fruitless, for not even the King himself with his ancient relics could damage Grima. His host was utterly destroyed, snuffed out in one fell swoop. The King, and his sons, perished that day. From then onwards came the reign of the Fell Dragon. Kingdom after kingdom fell to the might and power of Grima, and all those who were struck would rise again to fight. For ten and five long years Grima continued this onslaught, and it seemed then that darkness would forever reign over the world."
"Is there any hope for this grim tale, young master?" a wearied hobbit asked.
Lucina looked down towards the floorboards, a small smile forming on her lips. "One thing I've come to learn in recent times is that there is always hope. My father used to say to me that darkness may rule the skies for the night, but the sun will always rise again to shine ever the brighter. And in this tale, all hope had not died yet."
"In the ruins of Archanea, one of the King's sons still lived. The youngest, whom the King had forbidden to join him in battle, took shelter with the last remaining folk of the Kingdom of Archanea. Scholars debate upon what his true name was. Instead he was simply known as the Prince. They gathered at Mount Prism, the very mountain where the Great Dragon Naga and her tribe still dwelled."
"And why would folk gather near another dragon?" a man asked.
"Well, Naga is not evil like the Earth Dragons. Many ages ago she had taken pity on mankind, and had been our most stalwart defender."
"A dragon that isn't evil? I've never heard of the sort. Are you sure this Naga was a dragon?"
Lucina looked at the speaker curiously, unsure of what to say. It occurred to her then that these folk had simply never heard of Naga, yet still knew of dragons. Surely the mightiest of the dragon tribes would be known to any? "Indeed she was, and before the end she would prove to be mankind's greatest ally," she said.
"The Prince," Lucina continued, "wanted nothing but to end the tyranny of the Fell Dragon, but he knew he could not with the strength of him and those around him. So one day he'd decided he'd seek the help of Naga herself. Against the advice of the wise around him, the Prince set off to ascend the perilous paths up Mount Prism. He knew of what men had said about these cliffs, that none who journeyed up them were ever seen again. But the Prince was willing to risk these paths for but a chance at stopping the darkness that Grima wrought. For himself, his people, and the whole of the world."
"And so at last, the Prince, imbued with the blood of Naga, struck down the Fell Dragon with Falchion. Finally, the reign of the beast had ended, and Grima was at last defeated. The Prince returned to his people, and for the first time in years beyond count, there was light upon the land. And so the Prince founded the Halidom of Ylisse in the ruins of the Kingdom of Archanea. There he was closest to Naga, to remain ever loyal. He was crowned the first King-Exalt, and the Realm of Ylisse prospered ever after."
Lucina softly exhaled, and the Bree-folk seemed very satisfied with the tale. She was happy to have shared it with them, and it served well to improve her mood that night. In recent times Lucina had come to greatly appreciate that tale. When all the world was collapsing around; when it seemed as if everything was to be plunged into an endless dark; the Prince stood firm, unwavering as a twinkling star is unable to be consumed by the darkness of the night sky. For her own trials, Lucina hoped to have a fraction of the strength he did.
"The best I've heard in a long while!" some said, "You must tell us another, how about you tell us about this Hero-King?"
Lucina laughed, "The hour grows late, I'll save that tale for another night."
"Well, all right, but don't go running off until you've told us it!"
"I will be sure to do just that." Lucina stood up at last from the bench, stretching her back and leg muscles. "I go to my room, I bid you all good night."
The Bree-folk raised their mugs, and they all wished her a good night with smiles all around. She left them, and made for her room.
"That was a fine tale you've told, young master! Begging your pardon, but you didn't strike me as much of a storyteller." Butterbur had said to her as she passed the front counter.
"I'm glad you liked it," she said with a small smile. Just as she was about to ascend the steps that led to her room, a man approached the counter, fiddling with a coin purse.
"Heading home early for the night, Tom?" Butterbur asked the man.
Lucina stopped, 'Tom? Wait…is that?' She examined him closely, seeing the hilt of a sword peek out from his cloak.
"Aye, the lads have been on watch since midday. It's about time I relieve them. Lest their wives come complaining to me that they've been out too long," Tom laughed. They bid each other good night and he walked out the door.
Lucina marched to the front desk. "Butterbur," she said, "was that man Tom Appledore?"
"Why, yes, it was."
"And when had he arrived?" she asked, hints of irritation in her voice.
"Not long after you did, young master, I…Oh, I rightly forgot to tell you he was here, if you'll pardon, I often—"
"—It's all right, Mr. Butterbur," she said, and rushed out the door.
"Excuse me! Sir! Are you the Captain of The Watch?" she called out, catching Tom's attention just as he was about to leave the courtyard.
"I am," he said to her as she reached him.
Lucina took a breath in and out. "There are many things I wish to tell you, and I'm not sure where to begin. But I will start with this; outside your very gates walk many evils. And I bid you strengthen your defences. Rally up more men to guard the gates, increase the watch in the other towns."
"Evils? Of what sort?" he asked curiously.
"Well, you were present for my tale, in it I spoke of horrid creatures. Grima's loyal soldiers, the Risen. They roam outside your gates, and I fear from within."
"Risers!" he said with a laugh, "you saw a bunch of dead men? Have you been eating any wild mushrooms as of late?"
"The Risen, sir, are most certainly real. I saw them with my own eyes; fought them with my own sword! I cannot confirm there are more out there, but it would do no harm to prepare."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Well I haven't seen any dead men walking, neither has old Goatleaf."
"Perhaps not, but you must hearken to me if you don't wish to see your town in ruins. There is more, that is not the only darkness that troubles your town."
She then told him what had happened at the house regarding what she'd seen and heard.
Mr. Appledore threw up his arms. "And what am I to make of this?" he asked in a rather fed up tone.
"I'd ask you to investigate the house, keep watch on it, or tell me at least whose house that was."
"Now why would I do that? You're a stranger here, Master Marth, why should I take your word over one of our own?"
"You don't understand, I have reason to suspect that they are in league with…some evil."
"Some evil…" he repeated in a tone that suggested he wasn't taking her seriously. "I don't want to hear any talk of Risers or whatever nonsense you have. Either come to me with a valid complaint, or be off—"
"—The Black Riders!" she cut in, and the captain instantly stiffened. "I encountered them on the Greenway. Saw one face to face as close as you are to me now. That is one of the evils I speak of. I know they passed through here, the South-Gate gatekeeper confirmed it. I don't know what manner of man they are, I don't suspect they are risen. But I assure you this at least is a real threat that others here in your own town have witnessed!"
Mr. Appledore remained silent for a moment in what appeared to be hard contemplation. With a sigh he at last turned to her. "See here," he said, "you might mean well, but we've to worry about our own in Bree. I don't know what business these black fellows have here, and it ain't none of mine, nor yours, to know. They haven't hurt anyone, so we may leave them be. So I say keep your nose out of trouble and maybe you won't get hurt."
"Then that is folly to think. If you do not prepare, then everyone here will die. You have been warned," she said, anger barely restrained in her tone.
Mr. Appledore simply gave a deep sigh and rubbed his temples. "You know, my mum used to tell me a tale, she would. Of a boy who'd always called the huntsmen to say he'd seen a wolf, but there wasn't any wolf to be seen. He was just wanting attention. Until I see a wolf, I'm to think there isn't one. Now you best keep to yourself and stop causing a ruckus, Marth, else the lads will round you up and throw you in the ditch outside. And you may battle them dead men yourself." With that, he was off into the night.
'Fool!' Lucina thought, scowling, 'Everyone here is a heedless fool!'
Turning back to the inn, she almost bumped into a rather broad and burly fellow.
"Ah, apologies, sir," she said.
"No trouble, young sir. Marth, was it? My brother told me you came by today. Begging your pardon, I had business in Archet."
Lucina stood silently and looked at him for a moment. "Edd Willowdale!" she said, or rather stated as a matter of fact. She could see the clear resemblance of him and his brother, though he looked older and more grizzled.
"Aye, that's my name, it is. What were you wanting, I ask?"
"Maps!" she said, a little louder than she wanted to, "do you have any maps that I may look at, sir?"
"I've got none on me now, I'm afraid."
"W-well, could you perhaps find one for me tomorrow? I'll pay you even, to compensate for this trouble."
Edd paused for a moment before nodding his head, "you seem like a good lad. You tell a good tale and no mistake. Tell you what, come the morning, me and you will head back to Combe. I'll see what I've got in my house, show you whatever maps you need, aye?"
Lucina agreed, "That would do well, thank you. I bid you good-night."
"Good night to you too, lad." He then turned and went back inside.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, her mood brightening. Today hadn't been a total failure, it seemed. She would have to wait until tomorrow though, to see if things would truly go her way.